Page 15 of Claimed by an Alien Warrior

Frowning, the cop turned his attention back to her and took the wallet, shining his flashlight down onto it. She realized only then that he was wearing sunglasses. The lights weren’tthatbright, were they? Who wore sunglasses at night?

She forced her mind to abort that train of thought before the damned song popped into her head.

Control, Zoey. Not the time or place for eighties pop.

“Where are you heading tonight, Miss Weston?” he asked.

“I’m making my way to a friend’s.”

“And where would that be?”

“Iowa. Des Moines, Iowa.”

“Quite a way to go,” he said flatly, shifting the flashlight’s beam to her face. Zoey squinted against the blinding glare.Ass. “Any passengers tonight, or are you making that trip all alone?”

He swept the light over the back seat again before moving it toward the passenger seat.

“Unless you can see my invisible friend,” Zoey said with a nervous chuckle, “I’d say I’m traveling all by my lonesome.”

He stared at her. At least sheassumedhe did, as his eyes were hidden. “Have you seen anything out of the ordinary tonight, Miss Weston?”

“Out of the ordinary? What would be considered out of the ordinary, these days?” she asked, speaking a little faster than necessary. They really were looking for Rendash! “Whole bunch of helicopters zipping around, making a bunch of noise and shining searchlights everywhere. Don’t see that every day, right?” She grinned.

The officer’s face was as unmoving and cold as stone. After several uncomfortable seconds, he turned toward some of the other cops and signaled them. They began to direct traffic, albeit slowly, around Zoey’s car.

“I’m going to need you to shut off the engine, remove the key, and step out of the car, ma’am,” he said when he looked back at her.

The hair on the back of Zoey’s neck stood on end as fear slithered down her spine. A chill raced through her body. “Um, what is all this about, anyway, Officer…?”

He took a long step back from the door and dropped a hand to the pistol on his hip. “Out of the vehicle.Now.”

“Okay! Okay! I’m getting out.” She turned the key, pulled it from the ignition, and tossed it beside her purse. It was a struggle not to look at the back seat again; it’d be too obvious now. She opened the door and stepped out, keeping her hands up.

He waved his flashlight toward the hood of the car. “Move to the front of the vehicle and place both hands flat on the hood.”

Zoey did as she was told, despite the fearful tremors in her limbs. What had she done wrong? What would they do to her?

Once she was in position, the officer leaned into the open door for a moment, reaching down to pop the trunk. She felt him glare at her from behind his sunglasses before he walked to the back of the car. It shook slightly as he shifted around the contents — two suitcases of clothes and toiletries, the little photo album, her box of romance novels, and her favorite blanket.

After a minute or so, the officer slammed the trunk closed and walked back to the front of the car. Zoey peered up at him but was careful not to lift her hands off the hood.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Have you seenanythingout of the ordinary tonight? Hitchhikers, cars stopped on the side of the road, anything? There is a very dangerous man at large, and your silence will make it that much harder for us to catch him.”

“I haven’t seen anything,” Zoey replied, fingers curling on top of the hood.

“Your behavior suggests otherwise.”

“What behavior?” she demanded. “I gave you my ID, answered your questions, and now you got me bent over my damn car like a criminal? I lost my fucking job today, got a notice that my landlord’s about to evict me, and found out my boyfriend was cheating on me. Please excuse me if mybehavioris unusual, but I say I’m holding it together pretty damn well, all things considered.”

Zoey glared at the officer. Apparently, she’d straightened to stand with her fists clenched at her sides at some point during her blow up.

Whoops.

The cop’s jaw muscles bulged, and his hand drifted toward his gun again. He hesitated, tilting his head slightly as though listening to something. “Negative. She’s clear. Just got a nasty attitude.” Another pause. “Copy.”

Jerk.

“Back in your vehicle, Miss Weston,” he finally said. “Move along.”

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